


Accidentally on Purpose

by Charlie_Bb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Embarassing misunderstandings, FLUFF EVENTUALLY, M/M, alternative universe, broody Derek is broody, no weres involved, stupid Stiles is stupid but adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:30:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Bb/pseuds/Charlie_Bb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s going to call out for him – Mr Hale, nice name, almost rings a bell – when the coach starts barking orders to the team and Stiles freezes on the spot.<br/>“Derek?” he asks, incredulous. “Derek Hale?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidentally on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: the title. It's from a tv series, and when my room mate suggested it we didn't even know it was from a tv show, but it rang a bell so we checked. So, yeah, not mine, and this work has nothing to do with the omonimous show (I hope, I've never watched so I actually have no idea). 
> 
> Then, a special thanks to my roomie, who helped a lot with gathering ideas for this fanfiction. She's made of awesomeness and rainbows and thankyouthankyouthankyou. 
> 
> This was meant to be super-fluffy but I'm not sure, you tell me? ;)

The first time Stiles sees his dream guy, it happens on a bus.

It’s pretty much the only bus that runs through his ridiculously small home town, and it is so crowded it feels almost impossible to breathe in there. People are pushing him around, and Stiles seriously hates it – he’s not too much for human contact unless it comes from people he knows well and loves.

He’s just shoving an old lady who pushed him and Danny against the bus doors – _again_ – and Danny hears him exhaling loudly, profoundly pissed off and agitated already, and because Danny is an awesome friend (with benefits, Stiles can gladly add) he runs his smoothing hand down Stiles’ spine to calm him down, placing soft kisses on the back of his neck, and that actually works. Stiles’ breath slows down to a normal pace and he turns to face Danny, giving him a fond affectionate look before pressing his lips against his’, soft and warm and so delicate. Danny smiles in the kiss and pushes away without taking his hand off Stiles’ back and Stiles is grateful he has Danny with him during that horrible bus ride. If only his jeep wasn’t at the mechanic again.

The spring air is warm outside and brings the smell of flowers and changing Stiles loves so much, but when the sun hits on the bus windows it reflects and amplifies warming the air up more than anyone would happen to like.

It is in that moment that Stiles turns around to check on the screen which stop is next, and he sees him.

An impossibly handsome guy with thick black hair and eyes so green they shine of their own light. He stands right in the corridor, few steps away from where Stiles and Danny are standing, a muscled arm raised to grab the handle above his head, his eyes looking away from the sunrays hitting them.

Stiles thinks he’s never seen anyone so handsome in his whole life.

The guy gets off two stops later, and Stiles barely holds himself from running after him.

*

Danny swallows the last drops of Stiles’ come and smiles around his dick, licking it clean; he licks his lips as well and Stiles can’t take his eyes off him, Danny is terribly sexy when he gives him those fantastic, turn-to-jelly-afterwards blow jobs.

Stiles relaxes on the couch and slowly caresses Danny’s cheeks when he pulls up from his knees and gets closer. Stiles kisses him gently and Danny smiles in the kiss, that beautiful bright smile of his, and Stiles has always liked the way Danny’s eyes shine when he smiles.

“Let’s go to the _Claws_ tonight, we gotta celebrate.”

“Oh, man, that place literally sucks,” Stiles replies running his fingers through Danny’s soft hair and lets out a small grunt. “It’s full of hyperactive teenagers drowning whatever problem they think they have in stupid cheap beer, and the music sucks too.”

Danny laughs on his neck and places a gentle kiss on the soft skin under his jaw, making Stiles shiver a bit.

“ _You_ were one of those stupid teenagers once,” he says in a soft, nostalgic voice. “That’s where we met.”

“Ha-ha.” Stiles shakes a bony finger before his face and scowls at him. “No, that’s where we _fucked_. For the first time. In the back, gosh it was dirty. We met at school, you dumbass, and since you were one of the cool kids you wouldn’t even look at me. Bad, bad Danny.”

Danny laughs again and puts his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him closer. “Yeah, I never talked to you _in school_. That doesn’t mean I’ve never noticed you.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.” Danny kisses him again, lustily. “Come on, Stiles. You’ve got the job, we need to drink to that!”

“Everything is a good excuse for you to drink to,” Stiles reproaches with a snort, then exhales and rolls his eyes to the ceiling while Danny’s smile grows wider. “All right, all right, the _Claws_ it is. But I swear, if it’s stashed with kids I’m gonna leave you there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Danny quickly kisses him and puts his pants back, pulling up the zip with his teeth. Stiles frowns. Danny is a freaking nymphomaniac, that’s what he is. “And how the hell do you want to meet your _soul mate_ if we never leave the house?”

Stiles scowls again and gets up, starting to look for his shoes. He’s sure they’re somewhere nearby, it’s not like they could walk away that easily.

Danny will never stop fooling him about that soul mate thing. He was drunk, for fuck’s sake! He was babbling incoherently about true love and shit like that, Danny should really get over it now. It’s not like Danny wouldn’t like a proper boyfriend himself. What he has with Stiles is not even close to a real relationship, and both of them are fine with that. They’re friends, good friends that happen to fuck from time to time, because the stupid Beacon Hills doesn’t seem to offer much more on that front. They ease the boredom with some extremely good, exceptionally satisfying sex.

And yes, Stiles would very much like to find what some people call his other half, but it’s not like he’s gonna look for it. It’ll happen, one day, he will meet the guy who will make his heart skip several beats, now it doesn’t seem like the right time.

*

The _Claws_ is, as always, packed with people drinking and shaking their asses off in what they think is a dance and looks like frantic convulsions instead. Stiles sighs as he and Danny step inside and gets ready for the madness that will definitely come.

Danny points out a square table right in the room next door. It seems discreet enough there for Stiles to sit and drink in a relaxed atmosphere, so he rushes to it while Danny disappears in the crowd, headed to the bar to get the drinks. Stiles sits down with an indignant mumble but he notices the room is actually nicer than the rest of the club; it’s smaller, for instance, and way more calm and stress-free than the dancing floor. The music comes eased and Stiles silently thanks anyone who put all the speakers in the bigger room.

Danny comes back few minutes later, holding two bottles of beer in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other. Stiles stares at the transparent liquid with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t complain. If Danny wants to get drunk, Stiles will get drunker.

“To consultant detective Stilinski,” Danny cheers with a smile, touching Stiles’s bottle with his own in a crystal tingling. “To your new, adventurous life within the police force!”

Stiles gives him an annoyed look and manages to hide a smile. Consultant Detective Stilinski, sounds good.

He’s spent the last couple of years studying for the bloody exam and he made it, as simple as that. His dad was so happy when Stiles gave him the news, and couldn’t stop babbling about it with a proud light in his eyes. Father and son both dedicating their life to protect the others’s, Sheriff Stilinski couldn’t be happier. When he said it was the best day of his life, Stiles believed him.

“Is it taken?”

Stiles shakes his thoughts away and looks up to the guy in super tight jeans, so tight Stiles doesn’t need to imagine what’s underneath. “What?” he asks instead and the guy scowls at him as to imply Stiles must have some hearing problems. He wasn’t listening. And besides, the music is still pissing him off.

“The chair,” the guy almost yells to his face. “Is it taken?”

Stiles would say “yes” just to piss him off, but under layers and layers of sarcasm and bitterness he’s not that bad, so he nods faintly. “No, you can take it.”

The guy grunts – Stiles has to admit he has amazing blue eyes, and he knows Danny’s noticed too. As if attracted from Danny’s stare the guy turns to him and a big bright smile opens up on his face, erasing the annoyance and bother. 

“Ethan,” he says and Stiles can see him drooling, really. Danny is drooling as well and has _that look_ in his eyes, Stiles knows him well. Danny’s voice is soft and lusty when he says out his name, his eyes smiling as the rest of his face. Stiles chokes down a laugh and briefly shakes his head instead, waiting for the moment him and Danny will be alone again and he will tease him until the end of the world.

Ethan whispers something to Danny’s ear before leaving the two of them alone again and heading to another table instead, the chair in his muscled arm and a goofy look on his beautiful face. Stiles would never fall for it – he’s not his type, that’s all – but Danny is a different matter and, Stiles can see it in his dreamy eyes, he’s already completely fallen for it and can’t take his eyes off that Ethan guy already.

Stiles waves a hand before Danny’s face and he seems to gain consciousness again, flinching. “Earth to Danny, you there dude?” Stiles calls and Danny nods and smiles and when Stiles laughs at his face Danny doesn’t seem to care. “So, that guy.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna go for it?” Stiles asks sipping his beer and glancing at the subject of their conversation. He’s already looking back at their table, Stiles notices, and has a stupidly happy smile on his stupidly happy face. Danny blushes a bit and Stiles quickly kisses his cheek. “You, my friend, are worse than a teenage girl when it comes to boys.”

Danny leans in to his touch and Stiles hugs him softly, kissing his lips and smirking afterwards. “We’re gonna make him jealous, Danny-boy,” he mumbles and Danny seems to get what their behaviour might’ve led Ethan to. He scowls at Stiles and flips him, slapping him on the back of his neck. Stiles plays offended for a while, drinks up his glass (full of vodka, apparently) and stands up, offering to go and get some more. He blows Danny a kiss before he goes and laughs his ass off when he thinks about what’s gonna happen. If the guy is smart, he will ask Danny to drink something with him; if he’s not, they will look at each other for the rest of the night, pining and suffering for their own stupidity. Danny is not the kind of guy who does the first move, or at least not usually. If Danny spots a possible one night stand he becomes this kind of a predator, all lusty moves and liquid eyes, but when Danny meets someone he likes, well, he goes back to fifteen years old and everything that age brings along.

Stiles finally reaches the bar, orders two more beers and a couple of tequilas, and Danny will thank him once he’ll get tipsy enough to go and talk to the Ethan guy. Only, when Stiles gets back to their table – after trying not to jump into anybody’s chest and spill their drinks and oh god, teenagers are just animals – Danny is gone. Stiles puts the drink down and sips his beer, looking around curiously.

Danny, as it turns out, is at the pool table. With Ethan. And another Ethan.

Stiles looks at them for a while, wondering if Danny is planning some sort of orgy for the night or if maybe the other unnamed twin might be free for him to take – and then he sees him again, for the second time that day.

The guy is sitting at a table not far from the pool, drinking alone and scowling at the world as if it’d wronged him badly. His eyes shine in the darkness of the club, his muscles relax when he leans back on his chair; his lips look a bit dry, encircled with a black short beard Stiles is sure would itch his face like hell if only he’d kissed him.

“Come out and play, Stilinski,” Danny says out loud to cover the music, grabbing the new beer on the table and Stiles’ hand. “We need a fourth for the pool.”

Stiles grumbles – just a bit, it’s not like he’s that boring. The point is, he’s never learnt to play pool. Never. And Danny seems to be extremely good at it, and after they played a couple of times and Danny kinda humiliated him, well, Stiles is not really keen to play, not too much.

But Danny is smiling, and he looks happy, and Stiles loves to see him happy. So he sighs and stands up, letting Danny lead him to the table pool and the two Ethan’s.

“Stiles, they’re Ethan and Aiden,” Danny introduces him. Ethan gives Stiles an hostile scowl – which makes him laugh, really, but Stiles is smart enough not to do it in his face – while Aiden smiles at him, friendlier than his evil twin.

“How is it going?” Aiden asks, and Stiles shakes his hand with a smile. He notices a movement at the corner of his eyes so he casually turns to Ethan, smirking in his direction, and in doing so catches glimpse of _the guy_. God, he looks good. Broody, a bit anti-social maybe, but definitely good.

“So, up for a game?” Aiden asks, and Stiles likes him already. 

“Always,” he grins as Danny passes him a cue, while Ethan sets the balls on the green table. As the game begins, Stiles watches Danny bending over a bit more than necessary and he grins at him with a sparkle of complicity in his eyes, leaving the guys out of it. No matter how many boys they’re gonna get, he and Danny will always have something special and sure as hell they’ll never let it go.

Stiles watches the game carefully, hands on the top of his cue and head upon them; he’s not really good at it, but Danny’s just served him the perfect strike so he’s pretty confident he can make it. It won’t lead him to victory – he’s humiliatingly far from that – but it will get him few good points.

So he takes the cue firmly with both hands and slowly bends over the pool table; he observes all the balls, trying to calculate angles and strength and speed all at once, and bends a bit more, conscious of Danny’s eyes on his beautiful butt. Danny loves Stiles’ butt, so Stiles shakes it a bit as he tries to find a more comfortable angle for his shot.

Stiles calls out for the red ball in the corner – the one _Danny has deliberately left for him_ – and even though it seems a bit hard to get, he’s confident he can. So he hits it, hard and precise, and the ball does exactly what he planned, going to the pocket he was aiming for. Stiles slowly gets up, his moves a bit sensual just to make a smirk out of Danny’s lips, and when he turns to the others to giggle about his glorious point he catches someone else’s eyes following him.

 _The guy_ is few steps behind the twins now, a beer in his hand and an indecipherable look on his face as he follows each and every one of Stiles’ moves.

Stiles’ heart skip a bit – _or two, or three, or a thousand_ – but he reacts quickly and gives the guy a glance of complicity together with a smirk. The guy – _his_ guy, or his future guy, or maybe his future husband, Stiles’ mind sharply clarifies – stares back at him for a fraction of a second, then looks away.

“Oh-oh,” Ethan whines, eyes gazing off to the room next door. “Troubles coming right this way.”

Stiles and Danny both turn to follow his eyes just to watch Lydia Martin coming towards them, with her perfect lipstick, amazing red hair and beautiful dress. Danny winces at Stiles and Stiles vividly remembers the time he used to have a huge, _you’re-the-woman-of-my-life_ crush on her; she’s always been incredibly beautiful, and expectedly unreachable. Plus, he was one of the lowest losers back then, so there was no way she would notice him.

“Hey Lydia.” Stiles can’t just help it and cheerily waves in her direction. Since when he _came out of the closet_ , as Danny always says, he couldn’t care less about her that way. Still, he thinks she’s one of the smartest girls ever and he likes her, no matter what she thinks of him.

“Stilinski,” she returns with a quick look at him. “I’ve heard the news. Congrats.”

Stiles makes a dubious face when he says, “Thanks?”

“News travel fast around here,” she says as in reply to Stiles’ doubtful face. “It’s a small town.”

He nods at her and remains silent as she walks to the twin with an unpromising look in her eyes. She barely gives Ethan a second look and stops by Aidan’s side instead, hands running to his chest, fingers grabbing the edge of his shirt. “I believe you wanna do something more _interesting_ with your night?”

Stiles sees Aidan is barely able of speaking after that, his eyes running through Lydia’s perfect body, stopping on her legs just to go up to her waist and breast. The guy is fucked. Or will be, Stiles thinks. He’s proven right when Aidan drops the cue on the pool table and docile follows her out of the room, waving them just an absent goodbye.

“That girl will drive him crazy, one day,” Ethan says shaking his head.

“Looks to me like she’s done it already.” Danny grins and Stiles grins with him: Lydia Martin would drive crazy every single heterosexual guy _on the planet_.

“I don’t think you wanna join us for a game?” Ethan asks and Stiles is a bit confused at first; he follows Ethan’s eyes and gulps in surprise when he finds himself staring at _his_ guy. Silent, beautiful, gloomy, perfect in ways Stiles cannot even start to list. The guy doesn’t say anything and sips his beer instead, looking a bit annoyed even.

“Come on, Derek,” Ethan continues in a pleading voice and Stiles’ inner self raises a fist in the air, victorious. He’s got a name. _Derek._ Awesome name. “Stop being such a sour kind of guy and join us, it’s _fun_.”

The guy – _Derek_ – Stiles notices, seems to be allergic to the concept of fun itself, busy as he is to drink all alone in a dark corner giving everyone sidelong glances. Stiles doesn’t mind, really, and thinks that kinda adds mystery to Derek’s drop-dead gorgeousness.

“Never liked the pool,” Derek says in a low voice, almost a growl, and Stiles feels like he could go _squeee_ right now because, ohmygod, the guy can actually talk. Also, _his voice_.

“Me neither, but every chance is good to _shake it_.”

If anyone else had said something like that, Stiles would’ve taunted them _forever_. So when he realizes the words came out of his mouth he would very much cover it with his hands and take the words back, just before digging a huge dark grave to let his stupid self rot in.

Derek’s look slides to him and Stiles gulps helplessly. He forces himself into a smile though, because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let the man of his life notice how embarrassed and stupid he feels right now. Danny doesn’t miss Stiles’ numb expression and since he’s the best guy _ever_ he gives out a laugh and takes the beer he laid on the table before, raising it up in Stiles’ direction.

“You said it, babe.” Danny drinks to that and doesn’t miss Ethan’s jealous look either.

*

Several beers (and tequilas, and a couple of vodkas, and even a jagerbomb) later, Stiles is pretty much sure he’s drunk his ass off already.

Danny looks happy and definitely flirty, Ethan sprawled all over him, touching him whenever he gets the chance.

Derek, on the other hand, looks annoyed. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t enjoy the company, or if he really doesn’t like to have fun, but still. Stiles tried to talk to him, make him laugh a bit, but he didn’t even get a smile out of Derek so, duh, _failure_. Still, Stiles is not one who gives up easily.

“So,” Ethan says after he drinks up his tequila in one sip. “I guess we’ll call it a night.”

“Stiles, don’t wait up,” Danny winks with a smirk. “I’ll catch up tomorrow.”

And before Stiles can even process they’re gone, disappeared in the fading crowd, and what the hell just happened?

Stiles looks around just to see if they’re coming back, and when it’s pretty obvious they’re not he checks his pocket for his car keys.

Which are gone, together with Danny and Ethan and all the hormones flying around.

“Oh, crap,” Stiles says, leaning back on the chair and running his fingers through his hair. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“You know, you’d be more enjoyable if only you’d cursed less.”

Stiles turns around so fast his head seems to turn with him, and notices broody Derek is still there. “Why would you care?”

“I don’t.” Derek seriously glares at him as he sets his empty glass down on the table. “Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, you can shove your ‘just sayings’ somewhere else,” Stiles mutters. He gets up, tests his legs – he can stand, so that’s a good sign. He seems to stumble a bit, and his head feels lighter every second more, but he’s fine. Ish. Drunk off his ass but fine.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around, sour-man.” Stiles turns his back on him and stumbles away; it takes him only a couple of steps before his ridiculous sense of balance kicks in, and he would be crashing his face on the floor if it wasn’t for a muscled arm saving him last-minute.

“Whoa.” Stiles feels someone pulling him up and of course he knows it’s stupid broody Derek, still it’s weird. And an amazing catch if you ask him. “Whoa.”

“You’re not driving.”

“Danny took my car anyway,” Stiles replies just few inches away from his future husband’s face. The guy really has amazing eyes; they’re not only green, they’re hazel, and golden and whoa, he’s never seen anything this beautiful like, _ever_. “Gotta take a walk.”

Stiles can feel Derek’s breath on his own lips, and it’s hot and warm and smells good despite the alcohol he’s been drinking. Stiles is so focused on his lips – thin, a bit lucid by the drinks, totally kissable – that is not actually paying attention when they’re moving, Derek clearly talking.

“What?” Stiles asks in a terribly drunk voice but he couldn’t care less right now. Derek’s arm is still around his waist, burning the skin under Stiles’ shirt. He’s hot, and not only in a _so-hot-Stiles-could-totally-fuck-him_ way, but hot-hot, like he’s on fire hot, or he has fever hot. Stiles likes it.

“I said I’m gonna drive you home,” Derek repeats, his lips stretched as if he’d just ate a lemon, and Stiles can’t help but smile a little.

“Are you?” he asks with a goofy smile on his face. Derek shakes his head in disapproval but doesn’t let go of him as he walks Stiles out of the _Claws_.

*

“So you’re telling me you’re actually _from here_?” Stiles moves agitatedly on the passenger seat (also, Derek drives a _fucking Camaro_ , god, if that’s not the guy of his dreams) and Derek rolls his eyes (which, Stiles can’t help but find sexy). “From Beacon freaking Hills? How come I’ve never seen you around?”

“I’ve been away for a while,” Derek says and before Stiles can ask more about it he adds, “in New York, I’ve lived there for few years.”

So Derek’s basically saying he’s from Beacon Hills and him and Stiles could’ve met at any time – and it never happened. Stiles spent his whole life in that damn town, looking for someone who could make it worth it – someone like Derek – and Derek was just there, maybe around the corner or at the other side of the street, and they’ve never met. Then Derek left, and Stiles kept on spending his life in the damn town, wandering around until he finally found someone he loved hanging out with (and fucking, Stiles will never deny Danny’s sexual skills, never. Also, Danny was his first guy – not the only one, but the first).

“I wish I’d met you before,” Stiles whispers, his voice so low he doubts Derek can even hear it. Derek doesn’t say anything, but Stiles swears he’s just seen the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“This is it.” Stiles looks at Derek, then out of the car window, and Derek has stopped the car already and really, how did they get there so fast? “Can I trust you not to trip over your front steps?”

“Probably not,” Stiles grins, hand on the handle but hesitant. “Would you like a coffee or something? You’ve drunk quite a lot tonight.”

Yes, Stiles is _seriously concerned_ about Derek’s safety. What if he’s really drunk and gets to drive all alone and then crashes into a tree or something? Stiles can’t let that happen. Also, Stiles would very much like to see him again and dead Derek wouldn’t work.

“Go home, Stiles.”

Derek’s voice is steady but not as hostile as it was back at the club. It sounds nice.

Stiles raises his hands and gives out a smile. “If you’ll die because you were driving under the influence of alcohol I will not save you an ‘I told you so’,” he says before opening the door and obviously tripping over the car step. He gets up quickly just to show Derek he’s not a _complete_ idiot, then waves a hand goodbye and gets to the entrance. He turns back just for a second when he gets in and Derek is still there with his car, looking right back at him. When Derek spots Stiles’ stare he turns the engine back on and drives away.

Stiles sighs and starts climbing the stairs to the second floor, where his and Danny’s apartment is just around the corner. He reaches the door, the letters ‘3b’ sadly swinging on a side – they really look sad, Stiles notices, all dark and unpolished and hurt by the passing time.

The apartment is small, and not too much of a mess thanks to Danny and his cleaning skills, and when Stiles falls on the small sofa he can’t stop thinking about Derek’s eyes.

*

When Danny comes back the next morning Stiles is deep asleep on the couch, a leg falling to the ground and his arms stretched above his head. He gives a snore and Danny smiles, because even if Stiles is a complete dumbass he likes him just the way he is.

Danny heads to the small kitchen, leaving his and Stiles’ keys next to the entrance door along with the mail; he opens a cupboard and takes out a bag of coffee, starting the machine almost immediately. As the aroma spreads through the apartment Stiles yawns, his eyelids moving quickly and a minute later he’s sitting on the sofa, eyes wide open, his clothes rugged and messy as his hair.

“I’ve made you coffee,” Danny smiles as he hands Stiles a cup. “You look like you would need a ton, but let’s start small.”

Stiles grunts and takes the cup in his hands without a word. Danny knows he’s silently telling him to fuck off, insulting him with his mind, because it’s still too early for him to speak. Stiles has this thing, always had it, like he cannot proper talk until at least half an hour after he wakes up – which Danny thinks it’s stupid, because after that Stiles cannot just _stop_ talking all the freaking day.

“ _You_ look like you might need a ton,” Stiles mutters under his breath after few sips of coffee, and Danny knows for now it’s the best he can do. So he grins and sits right next to him, poking him with a finger and Stiles looks really, truly annoyed. He tries to chase Danny’s finger away but fails, sighing loudly and falling back on the sofa with an irritated noise.

“Come on, Stiles, don’t be so grumpy,” Danny gently mocks him, but Stiles plays offended. So Danny encircles his skinny but tight body in a warm hug and after trying to kick him away Stiles eventually gives in, hugging him back.

“You smell,” he says sniffing Danny’s hair and making a face. “Eew, dude, you smell like that Ethan guy. And he smelled disgusting even last night, I’m telling you.”

“I think he smells nice,” Danny says with a goofy smile on his lips. Stiles fakes a retch. “And I think I really like him.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, leaving his coffee aside for a moment. “After one night?”

“ _After one minute_.”

Stiles gets his cup back and lets Danny settle down on his lap; he starts running fingers through his hair –  Danny has always loved it, he’s always found it relaxing, and relax is exactly what Danny seems to need right now.

“Dude, I get you find him attractive and everything, and you’ve spent the night together, but- really?”

It’s not that Stiles _hates_ Ethan, he just doesn’t like him that much: probably if he’d only knew him better he’d change his mind, but right now no, thanks, Ethan doesn’t look like the kind of guy you can trust. And Danny trusts people so easily, and he easily gets screwed. In any sense.

It’s just – Stiles doesn’t want Danny to get hurt. He is the best friend Stiles has ever had, and the best guy he’s ever known, and the sweetest, and the cutest, and Danny doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve some guy who raises his hopes high just to crush them hardly few moments after; Danny deserve someone nice, someone who can love him for real and not play him like others have done in the past.

“We’ve talked about everything,” Danny tells him with a new light in his brown eyes. “And he’s smart, Stiles, really smart even if he doesn’t look like it; he’s read all of my favourites books, and I’ve read all of his, and I don’t know, I just _feel it_ , like something in my guts. He made me breakfast this morning, _in bed_ , and didn’t want me to leave and… I really think he might be the right one, Stiles.”

Stiles never stops caressing his hair, his eyes fixed on Danny’s face. He’s _glowing_ , like really glowing, and he looks beautiful with his brand new emotions and bright smiles, and Stiles knows Danny trusts people too much but he knows that Danny is well aware of his feelings all the time as well. Danny gets people in ways Stiles will never be able to do, he understands them, and sometimes he knows they’re not right for him but that doesn’t stop him from trusting them. 

This time, Danny thinks Ethan might be the one so Stiles is pretty sure _he is_.

“So are you gonna invite him for dinner or something?” Stiles asks, his voice soft now, and Danny smiles at him.

“I was thinking about it,” he says. “Maybe Aidan could come too, just to avoid making a big deal out of it. You know, just some friends hanging out together, having dinner and chatting.”

“Friends?” Stiles almost laughs in his face, but Danny looks so happy he feels bad for even thinking about it. So he nods instead, encouraging. “Sure, why not?”

“And that Derek, too,” Danny casually adds, a little _too casually_ for Stiles not to know there’s more to it than Danny’s actually saying. “You seemed to get along well.”

“Me and the sour-man?” Stiles grunts. “He didn’t even _talk_ for the entire evening.”

“But you like him anyway,” Danny replies with a wise expression painted all over his young face. “Also, he drove you home, and-“

“Wait, _how_ do you know he drove me home?” Stiles asks indignantly and Danny makes _that_ face, the face he makes when he wants to show Stiles he knows more than he pretends to, and Stiles hates that face very much. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Stiles adds, eyes wide open in realization. “It was you all along, you _planned_ to leave me with the jackass even before you planned to get in Ethan’s pants!”

“I planned to get in Ethan’s pants _first_ ,” Danny smirks, “ _then_ I planned to leave you and Mr Broody some time to bond. Also, he’s the guy from the bus, isn’t he?”

“How do you even-“ Stiles pushes him away and scowls at him, profoundly annoyed and shocked, because Danny is made of pure evil and Stiles never noticed before. “I don’t wanna know.”

Danny slithers back on his lap and leaves a wet kiss on Stiles’ bare forearm. “I’ve seen how you look at him, Stiles, as if you wanted to _eat him up_. He’s impossibly handsome, I’ll give you that. And I think you should give it a try.”

“You are insane,” Stiles burbles as he looks away from him. “Insane, you get that? Mad, crazy, freaking out of your mind, and I could go on and find a million of other synonyms for that but I won’t just because I would get bored eventually.”

Danny laughs and nuzzles Stiles’ neck, kissing it gently. “I know you, Stiles, remember that. And that Derek seems a nice guy if you pass over his antisocial skills.”

Stiles pushes him away, gentler than he intended, and gets up, stretching his tired body in a sequence of creepy creaking noises. He flips Danny and turns his back on him as he says, “Whatever.”

*

When Stiles passed his exam to become a Consultant Detective he knew what he was signing for. Still, his first case in Beacon Hills finds him emotionally involved and he can’t let that happen; he can sympathize for the victim’s family, yeah, but he can’t let himself get involved like this.

It’s a missing person case. A missing boy, aged 16, to be correct.

Stiles has studied a lot of cases like that when he was taking Psychology classes, and he knows exactly what to expect. The first forty-eight hours from the disappearance are crucial to find the person – _boy_ – alive, and after that the chances to find him at all lower to a really horrible percentage.

The first words he hears when he reaches the Police Station that morning regard the case that’s just been reported, and all the officers are activating to find as many leads as possible about the probable abduction.

“Josh Turner, sixteen years old. His parents called an hour ago to report him missing,” the Sheriff says as soon as Stiles gets to his small office.

Stiles nods briefly and takes the folder his dad is handing him. He gives it a quick look as he sits down on his creaky chair and nods again, thinking fast about his next moves. The police is already at work, he knows that, and the kid’s parents are being questioned about him in the small room right next to Stiles’. “An hour, that’s good,” he says absently as his father sits in front of him. “That gives us forty-seven more hours to find him alive. Have you already arranged the searching team?”

The Sheriff nods. “Jordan and Williams are going to search the house for clues, the others are gonna patrol the preserve” he says. “I was thinking you could go to the school?”

“Sure.”

*

When Stiles gets to Beacon Hills High School he feels like he’s having a déjà-vu. The red brick building stands right in front of him, smaller and less scary than he remembered; the yard is full of kids chatting, sitting at the wooden tables, studying.

Being twenty-six doesn’t save him from the shiver that runs down his spine at the thought of the years he’s spent in that place, of how wrong he’d felt, how out of place.

He takes a breath and gets inside, asking to the information desk for the missing kid’s teachers. He needs to talk to them, find out if they’ve noticed something weird in Josh’s behaviour lately.

Old Mrs Stevens, the now grey-haired woman at the desk (who happens to recognize Stiles immediately and glares at him as if he’d killed her cat), points him to a few teachers – Mr Grey, the Biology teacher; Mrs Martin, History teacher; Mr Hale, the new coach. Stiles is a bit sad he doesn’t get to meet coach Finstock again, the guy was one of his favourites _ever_ ; he was cool for a professor, a bit crazy in the head sometimes, but definitely cool. He knew how to motivate his students, and didn’t give a crap about Economics, that happened to be the subject he used to teach. Coaching was just fun to him, but damn he did it good.

So Stiles starts with Mr Grey, a wizened old man with inquisitive blue eyes and raggedy clothes. He knows Josh, of course, and when he finds out the kid is missing he looks sadly concerned. The kid, he says, has a thing for troubles, he just hopes the police can find him soon, God helps him.

Mr Grey has nothing to add, Josh has never behaved badly in his classes, nor has he noticed anything weird with him lately, so Stiles thanks him and goes to the History class where he finds Mrs Martin, eyes on paperwork she’s marking in red. She really is beautiful, Stiles notices, with her strawberry-blond hair and elegant posture. Lydia has her eyes, Stiles also notices, and her full, shiny lips, and when he talks to Mrs Martin he finds out she and her daughter have almost the same voice as well.

Josh Turner, hyperactive but a good guy after all, she says. A bit of a trouble-maker sometimes, but good troubles, he has never done anything to hurt people or make them feel really uncomfortable. As she speaks Stiles can’t help but think about himself when he was Josh’s age; hyperactive, exuberant and a bit of a trouble-maker too. The teachers were exasperated with him, but he knows they liked him anyway. Just as they like Josh. He’s a bit of a buffoon, they say, but he has a good heart.

Mrs Martin can’t help Stiles either so he thanks her, tells her to say “Hi” to Lydia for him and leaves her to her job. Just before stepping out of the door he adds, “And use a lot of red, it will drive them mad.” She grins at him and he leaves with a smile on his face, heading to the lacrosse field.

As soon as he steps outside into the green grass Stiles smiles almost automatically, remembering all the times he’s spent in that field, playing with is former best friend Scott or training solo just to pour out the excess of energy in his body. He’d been diagnosed ADHD when he was something like six or seven, and his teenage years have been the worse for his condition; he was incapable of focusing, of studying properly (he _did_ study, by doing researches absolutely not school-related on his own) and playing lacrosse seemed to be the only thing to help him. Scott used to help a lot too, but then they took separate ways when they got into different colleges; they kept in touch for a while, something like a year, but things were not the same, and Scott had met this fabulous Allison, the girl of his life, and it happened, as a lot of bad things happen to good friends. They grew apart, and though Stiles  still misses Scott sometimes he’s man enough to know that’s how life goes.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head and walks in the grass towards the man standing right on the edge of the field, turned to the kids training and using his whistle a bit too much for Stiles’ taste. Stiles stares at his shoulder – big, muscled, nothing to do with old coach Finstock’s – and thinks that Beacon Hills High School finally has a respectable coach.

He’s going to call out for him – Mr Hale, nice name, almost rings a bell – when the coach starts barking orders to the team and Stiles freezes on the spot.

“Derek?” he asks, incredulous. “Derek _Hale_?”

Faded memories come back to Stiles’ mind as Derek turns to him, all rolling eyes and annoyed looks, and Stiles knows why he remembers that name. Years and years before, when he was ten or something, there had been a fire and a house had burnt down; it was inhabited by a large family, there was something like ten of them, and at least eight had been found dead, caught up in the fire and smoke. Three of them, Stiles remembers, had escaped their fate; they were at school that day while the whole family was home.

“Are you following me, Stiles?” Derek asks in his usual sour voice and Stiles’ stomach contracts at the thought of what Derek had gone through. “And you’re strangely quiet, that’s new.”

Stiles can’t help but think about how _familiar_ talking to Derek feels, about how Derek seems to know him after only one night – one night they didn’t spend talking, because clearly Derek doesn’t like people and fun and words in general.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Stiles lets out, slowly, as Derek scowls at him and keeps on scowling at the lacrosse team as well. “I didn’t even know your name, you dumbass.” Stiles coughs to cover the last word and tries to pull himself together. He’s working, after all, no matter how hard he would like to kiss Derek.

“What do you want then?” Derek asks, blowing into his whistle and barking something about _defence, for God’s sake, do you see he’s passing through?!_

Stiles clears his throat to get Derek’s attention back and when he does he starts talking. “Josh Turner, he’s a student here. I’m talking to all of his teachers, his parents reported him missing few hours ago. I need to know if you’ve noticed anything wrong with him, anything out of the ordinary. Anything can help.”

“He’s one of mine,” Derek says, his voice low and thoughtful. “He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s not bad, just an overexcited teenager. No, I’ve never noticed anything that can help, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles lets out with a sigh. He takes his card from the pocket inside his jacket and handles it to Derek. “That’s my number, call me if you remember anything.”

Derek turns the card in his hand a couple of times, then nods briefly. Stiles nods back at him and stays still; he knows he should go now, he has lots of stuff to do, still he feels like there’s something else that needs be said, only he doesn’t know what exactly. Derek stares at him and not the match, as if he’s waiting for Stiles to say something or thinking to say something himself, Stiles cannot tell, and the silence between them is becoming thicker when a ball from the football team flies in their direction.

Stiles is pretty sure he’s gonna get hit in the face – as it always happened when he was in high school – but Derek is giving his back to the flying missile and Stiles has to try at least, even if he’s uncoordinated and it’s gonna end badly. So he raises his hand to catch the ball… and he catches it.

It hurts like _hell_ , his hand might be broken or something, but he’s caught it. Like, _for real_ , and he can’t help but throwing it back with a glorious smile. He winces at Derek, who’s still watching him, and waves a hand goodbye, turning his back on him.

Of course, right after Derek has gone back to the kids Stiles trips on his feet and crashes down on the soft grass.

*

The police found Josh Turner twenty-one hours after his disappearance.

Turned out he ran away from home after a fight with his father over some stupid school choices, he stayed at a friend’s for less than a day and came back covered in guilt and remorse when he found out the entire town was looking for him.

It’s super early in the morning when Stiles gets the news, half asleep on his desk as he is, the folders laying there rugged and a bit ruined by him sleeping on it. His dad is the one to wake him up, a gentle hand placed on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Go home now, get some rest,” the Sheriff says in his smooth paternal voice and Stiles replies with a yawn that sounds like a ‘On it’. He gets up, his body aching from the many hours spent on that damn chair, and grabs his keys and mobile phone. He pats his father on the back, mutters a goodbye and leaves the police station after helping himself with a hot coffee from the vending machine. He gets in his old jeep, praying it won’t leave him in the middle of the road _again_ , and checks his phone before turning on the engine.

There’s a message from Danny asking him when is he going to be back at the apartment, to which Stiles replies immediately even if it’s four in the morning – he knows Danny would skin him if he didn’t – and another text from a number Stiles doesn’t recognize.

 _Any news on Josh?_ , it says, and it’s signed _D_. As simple as that. 

Stiles is too tired to freak out about _Derek Hale texting him_ , so he decides to think about it tomorrow and heads home instead.

*

Stiles didn’t tell Danny about Derek’s text, nor he did tell him about the one he sent in return. Or the few that followed – all Josh related, of course.

It’s been a few days now and after the Turner case, as they called it, Stiles’ life went back to normal and boring. There’s not much to do for him at the Police station really, Beacon Hills appears to be one of the safest town ever, and Stiles starts reconsidering his stay there. He likes that town – well, doesn’t dislike it too much – and he’s spent his whole life there, going away just to follow classes in the nearest County College. He feels safe, and despite of everything Beacon Hills feels like home, but Stiles knows there’s a whole new world waiting for him outside the town’s borders.

He grabs his coffee at the cafeteria – after five minutes of waiting, jeez, that place is slow –, pays and heads out to the street where his jeep is parked. He can’t think about leaving town in the near future, it’s not like a couple of months are gonna kill him. Besides, he loves his apartment and the life he shares with Danny, they’ve been friends for so long now it would feel like with Scott all over again if he left.

Stiles gives the street an absent look, then freezes on the spot as his eyes meet a known figure just across the road. Well, _two_ known figures, but Stiles is more interested in one at the moment.

“Hey!” he shouts frantically waving a hand, coffee spilling all over him but he couldn’t care less now. Derek Hale turns as if he heard him – correction: he’s definitely heard him, and Stiles can’t believe how _quickly_ he’s turned to him. Well, Stiles can’t believe how quickly _he_ gets turned on every time he just _sees_ Derek as well, but that’s a different matter.

“Scott McCall!” Stiles shouts again and this time he’s too focused on his old friend to notice the look on Derek’s face. “You dumbass!”

Scott finally turns back and a bright smile lights up his face as he crosses the street to get to Stiles.

*

Stiles doesn’t really care what people think of him when he spends some of his Friday nights watching the new Meg Ryan chick-flick at the cinema. He likes that girl, okay? She’s a great actress and the whole world should watch more of her movies because they’re funny and entertaining.

Danny usually goes with him, even if Stiles knows he doesn’t like chick-flicks that much, but Danny is an awesome friend and does things for Stiles, same way Stiles does for him. Unfortunately Danny has to work tonight at the gym – something to do with big cleaning before the big bosses come around – so Stiles is on his own. He doesn’t mind too much though.

He’s late – as always when Danny is not there to make him arrive on time – and he gets his ticket fast, hurrying to the movie theatre just to see they have just ended projecting the trailers, so he got lucky this time.

The room is dark and almost empty, only few seats taken; it’s always like that on Friday nights, young people tend to go clubbing and old folks don’t like the new movies too much. Stiles curses himself for not having the time to grab some popcorn as he turns the light on his mobile so he can see the steps and not trip on them – _as always_. The screen goes bright for a moment and Stiles spots Scott and his legendary Allison few seats at his right; they’re back in town for holidays and when Stiles met his former best friend, Scott wouldn’t stop talking about the magical perfect wedding he and Allison are planning. Also about having a baby.

Stiles frowns internally and no baby talks, thank you very much, so he moves to the left of the room, which is a bit emptier and lonelier and will suit him perfectly. He finds an entire empty row seat and picks a spot, a guy sitting a couple of chairs away in front of him.

Stiles settles down comfortably and enjoys the titles, and when the screen turns bright again he spots Derek Hale. In that seat in front of him.

With popcorn.

Stiles would really be a fool not to take advantage of it. Plus he’s a great company even during a movie, and Derek will thank him. Eventually. So he moves quickly, jumping into the other row, then slides next to his prey.

“Yo Derek, what’s up?”

Derek almost jump in his seat. Almost. Okay, not really, but only because he’s some kind of emotionless robot. Stiles gives him a bright smile, all shiny teeth and happy feelings, and Derek rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Stiles thinks it’s kind of his thing, really.

“I never thought you were the chick-flick kind of guy,” he says, not caring too much about keeping his voice low. The theatre is almost deserted anyway. “Meg’s fan?”

“My sister dragged me here,” Derek growls, and Stiles notices that’s another one of his things. He likes it anyway, he can almost feel Derek’s growl trembling in his own chest.

“Great, and where is she?” Stiles asks, gazing at the big bag of popcorn in Derek’s hands. Derek looks a bit upset, a bit mad maybe when he whispers, “She’s got an emergency call from the hospital and had to go back.”

Stiles wonders if Derek’s sister is as broody as Derek, but he doubts it. Still it would be nice to meet her and mock her brother together, Stiles is pretty sure that poor girl has tried her best to make a decent guy out of him without success.

“I’ll meet her next time then,” Stiles says and cheerfully adds, “Can I steal some popcorn? Awesome, thanks.”

Derek looks at him as if he would very much like to murder him in his sleep, but Stiles doesn’t care too much. Derek really needs some good Stilinski vibe in his broody life, Stiles knows that for sure, so he just plans to stick with him for a while, maybe for the whole movie – and steal some of his popcorn, of course. With a last stare of death Derek settles down in his chair, leans back in a more comfortable position and fixes his eyes on the screen.

Stiles stares at him for a while, and he doesn’t really care if Derek notices. It’s just, Derek has a nice profile, really; his jaw line is the closest thing to perfection Stiles has ever laid eyes on, and his nose is simply beautiful and Stiles is pretty picky when it comes to noses. But seriously, Derek’s nose is so pretty Stiles would like to Eskimo-kiss him for a long, long time.

When Derek shifts the popcorn in between their chairs, Stiles thinks he probably will.

*

“You’ve been to the movie _with Derek_?”

“Yeah, Danny, we’ve covered that part already, haven’t we?”

“ _With Derek!_ You and Derek, _alone to the movies_!”

Stiles thinks Danny is the most horrible guy in the world.

Stiles has just come back home from his Friday night movie, which he’s spent next to Derek, stealing his popcorns and talking about the film while they were watching it. So what? It’s not that big deal. Still, Danny is making it a big deal, as if Stiles and Derek planned the date in advance.

The movie, Stiles means the movie of course.

“Stiles, you _do_ realize you and Derek watched a chick-flick _together_ ,” Danny keeps on, giving Stiles his _this-is-so-obvious-please-don’t-get-me-started_ look. “Dude, that guy _doesn’t date_ , you get that?”

“Yeah, and that _wasn’t a date_ ,” Stiles replies. “Wait, what? How do you know?”

Danny leans back on the kitchen chair and takes a sip of his beer. He knows Stiles hates long pauses, he knows it so well he’s giving him one. Or two, or three. Stiles moves agitatedly on his chair, pushing the empty beer forward on the table, and raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Ethan and Derek are friends since college,” Danny explains. “Apparently, Derek isn’t really the social type and he hasn’t dated anyone in _ages_. Ethan wouldn’t say much, just that Derek doesn’t date. He doesn’t like it maybe, or maybe it’s something else, maybe he dated someone and it ended badly, I don’t know. I just know _you_ dated him, whether it was premeditated or not. It happened, maybe _you_ happened to him, and don’t think you can fool me, Stilinski.”

No, Stiles doesn’t think he can, Danny knows him too well.

“You like him,” Danny says with a soft smile, rubbing Stiles’ hand on the table. “Like, _a whole lot_. So what are you waiting for?”

Stiles would really like to tell Danny he doesn’t think he’s Derek’s type, he doesn’t think a guy like Derek would ever go for a guy like _him_ , a mess on so many different levels. Because Stiles knows he’s a mess, and no matter how grown-up he’ll be he’ll never stop being a mess, never. That’s what he is, _who_ he is – clumsy, messy guy with past-but-not-really behavioural issues. And Derek would never, ever go for that, not when he could have _anyone_ he wanted just by snapping his fingers.

“Nah,” Stiles says instead and shakes his head, forcing a smile out of his lips. “Better not.”

*

“Are you coming for dinner tonight?” the Sheriff asks with what Stiles recognizes as a flick of hope in his light blue eyes.

“Sorry dad, Danny’s been cooking all day,” he replies, hugging him tight and letting his father suffocate him in return. “He’ll kill me if I call myself out now.”

“Yeah, I get it.” The Sheriff smiles softly and caresses his son’s cheek with a rough hand. “Tomorrow night maybe? Bring Danny.”

“Perfect, but I doubt he’ll come over this time.”

“How so?”

“He has a _boyfriend_ ,” Stiles tells him with a smirk and a wink before leaving the station.

He remembers to stop by the supermarket to get some wine – red, Danny told him he’d kill him if Stiles took a white or anything else really – and some milk as well, they’re running out, and Danny never remembers to buy it. When he gets out of the supermarket Stiles has more bags than expected, he got a little carried away in there and bought as many stupid things as humanly possible. Also, some vegetables, because he knows he has to eat his veggies – chocolate first, than chips, than _fish and chips_ , then drinks and _then_ veggies. Still, he eats them and his conscience is clean.

When he gets to the apartment he slams the door open with a kick, his keys still in the keyhole.

“Honey, I’m home!” he jokes as he closes the door behind him, then adds, “A little help here?”

When someone comes to help him, it’s not who Stiles had expected.

“Derek?” he asks, surprise written on his face and Derek seems to read him as an open book as he returns Stiles’ look and raises an eyebrow in response. “How did you get in?”

“Danny, maybe?”

“Oh, right.” Stiles clears his throat and watches Derek take a couple of his shopping bags, his muscles stretching when his arms tense, and yeah, okay, Stiles could totally go all fangirlish about Derek’s arms, but that doesn’t mean too much really. He has nice arms, that’s all.

Derek heads to the kitchen without waiting for him and Stiles throttles behind him with a weird look on his face. He didn’t really believe Danny was gonna invite Derek over _for real_. Stiles thought he was just joking, because that would’ve made sense, but hey!, Danny is evil and Stiles should really start to remember that. Bad Danny.

Derek leaves the bags on the kitchen table and starts unpacking them, scowling at the ginormous quantity of sweets and junk food. Stiles needs his sweets, okay? He doesn’t function without sweets, so Derek-sourness-Hale should stop scowling at his energy source. Ethan is scowling too, though at Stiles and not at the food, but Stiles couldn’t care less. He smiles in return, just to watch the disgusted look on Ethan’s face and giggles internally.

“Stiles, can you take this to the table?” Danny asks with a smile and a threat hidden in his eyes, handling Stiles a pot full of spaghetti. Stiles obviously nods, he doesn’t want Danny to get all Hulk-style on him – and Danny is _totally_ capable of that, Stiles knows it too well. So he takes the pot and heads to the small living room, reaching the table and leaving the pot there before it burns his hands.

“There,” Derek says a second later, and Stiles would like to ask him who’s following who now, but Derek is handing out a beer and has Stiles already said he likes the guy?

The beer is a perfectly cold dark one, just as Stiles likes it, and when he swallows his first sip the stupid day at the stupid police station seems to vanish into thin air. That’s what he needs, beer and dinner and, he never thought he’d ever say this, _friends_.

Not Ethan, of course, because Ethan doesn’t seem to like Stiles too much and Stiles feels kinda the same way about him, but still. Danny is there, his best friend, the guy who’s seen him at his best and, most importantly, at his worst, and he’s never run away. Stiles thinks he doesn’t really deserve a friend like Danny – amazing, loyal, caring – but he thanks anyone who put them together in the first place because he probably wouldn’t have survived without him.

Danny has been there for Stiles right when he needed him the most, he’s helped him with his homosexuality, he’s taught him how to be alright with it when Stiles used to think there was something incredibly wrong with him.

And Derek.

Okay, Stiles knows they’re not _friends_ , not yet, but Derek feels familiar in ways Stiles almost doesn’t believe possible, he feels safe even if they didn’t spend that much time together. He feels like home, like the Beacon Hills Stiles never got to live. Derek feels like chick-flicks on Friday nights, like sharing popcorns and smiling stupidly in the darkness of a theatre; he feels like cold beer after a long, stressful day, like warmth and comfort and Stiles doesn’t know why. It’s just like that, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He will try to be friend with him, damn, he will _force_ Derek to be his friend because that’s all he’s gonna get and Stiles won’t let Derek slip away from his life, never. He needs him. Just that.

“I talked to Josh yesterday,” Derek says out of the blue and Stiles needs a second or two to focus on the conversation again. “We talked about what he did.”

“You scared the hell out of him to prevent him from doing it again, you mean,” Stiles grins and when Derek looks a bit guilty he laughs out loud. “Jeez, that was just a lucky guess but, damn, I’m good at it.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Derek replies, defensive, and Stiles’s laugh immediately turns into a soft smile as he pats Derek on the shoulder and squeezes it with his skinny fingers.

“I would’ve done the same,” he says in a low, confident voice and Derek doesn’t say a word for a moment, just looks at him with something in his eyes Stiles cannot define.

When Danny and Ethan join them in the living room Stiles takes his hand off quickly and gives them a bright smile.

*

Ethan is actually better than Stiles thought. He’s smart, as Danny had said, and really fun if you pass over his stares and glances. Stiles didn’t really think having dinner together was a good idea but he’s been proved wrong.

The atmosphere is cosy and familiar as they consume the awesome meal Danny has cooked, talking and laughing as a group of old friends. Glasses keep on getting filled up with red wine and water alternatively, Danny and Ethan keep on staring at each other as if they couldn’t wait to get naked and Stiles discovers a part of Derek he didn’t know existed.

Derek is _fun_. Like, real fun, with shy smiles and awesome punch lines and a bit of his usual sourness, and did Stiles mention the shy smiles already? God, he’s melting all over the guy. Broody Derek is incredibly handsome and sexy, but smiley Derek is something Stiles would gladly die for.

“And then Stiles opens his locker and chains fall all over the place,” Danny says laughing his ass off. “And the coach is just next to him, so he turns to Stiles with a shocked face and says something like-“

“ _A part of me wants to ask, the other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine_ ,” Stiles finishes for him with a fond smile. “Yeah, I remember. And it was a science project!”

“Why would you ever use chains for a science project?” Ethan asks, looking slightly shocked and Derek gives Stiles a smirk that would probably stop his heart forever.

“I know a thing or two you could use them for,” he says and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s serious or just mocking him, but likes it anyway. Ethan turns to him with shock and concern alternating on his face.

“Dude, I don’t even wanna know.”

“And, time for dessert!” Danny cheerfully says to get everybody’s attention off the topic. Ethan sadly shakes his head in unbelief but Derek is still smiling and, okay, Stiles might have lost a brain cell or two.

Danny vanishes in the kitchen and comes back with the most amazing apple pie they will ever taste. Stiles tells him all the time, Danny is a wonderful cook and his pies are literally _the best ever_. Stiles gets the knife to cut the scented dessert and Danny takes it off his hands almost immediately, scowling at him.

“I don’t trust you with a knife,” he simply says and cuts the pie himself, serving four portions together with some creamy, warm custard and as soon as Stiles gets to eat his share he forgets about whatever complaint he was gonna make. The others appreciate too, complimenting on the dessert and devouring in only few bites. When they take their second piece Stiles is already at his third.

Danny has a look on his face and Stiles knows it too well not to recognize it immediately. He’s thinking about _how_ and _where_ he would like to eat the pie instead of a plate and seriously? The guy should watch his attitude or Ethan is gonna think he’s a maniac – which is not entirely wrong, and on a second thought Ethan wouldn’t probably mind, so Stiles forgets it and attacks the pie again, Derek trying to scowl at him but ending up smiling instead.

When even Ethan looks like he would like to eat his pie from Danny low stomach Stiles thinks the air is getting too hot to stand. Those two should just get a room – he doesn’t say that to their stupid faces just because Danny would make him regret it for, like, _the rest of his life_. The bastard.

When Stiles offers to make some coffee he sees Derek’s expression has changed all of a sudden. He seems uncomfortable somehow, upset, but he was fine less than a minute ago and Stiles doesn’t get it.

“I should go.” Derek refuses his coffee offering and gets up instead, all perfunctory moves and wandering eyes and really, W-T-F?

“Yeah, you got kids to scare tomorrow,” Ethan says, not even looking at him and eating Danny up with his eyes instead. “See ya, big guy.”

Danny smiles and waves his goodbye and Stiles really thinks everyone has just gone crazy, because what? What the hell is going on here? He puts back on the table the dirty plates he was gonna get in the sink and rushes off after Derek instead, catching up with him at the front door with a confused look on his face. “What?”

“I gotta go,” Derek only says as he wears his leather jacket on and opens the door without a second look at Stiles.

“What? Why?”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Stiles watches him leave with shock in his eyes. Is he missing something? It looked like they were having a really good time and now Derek is running away, dark and broody as he used to be and Stiles really doesn’t get it. He looks back at Danny and Ethan, who look like they’re gonna have sex _on the table_ and eew, no, thanks. So he takes his keys and runs after his favourite sour-man.

*

Derek is reaching his car when he hears footsteps behind him. He sighs as he knows exactly who it is. He doesn’t even turn around when he says, “Go home, Stiles,” but of course Stiles begs to differ. He catches up with him and when Derek opens the car he gets in fast, not leaving Derek time to reply.

“A, I have no idea what’s just happened in there,” Stiles says as Derek gets in the driver’s seat. “And B, I don’t really wanna stay there and watch those two having sex on our table, thanks a lot.”

Derek sighs and turns on the engine. Stiles won’t go away that easily, so better think of a plan.

“How about that coffee?” Stiles asks and Derek would like to drop him in the middle of the street, really. He takes a deep breath instead and takes the main road, heading to a small café that stays open until late.

“Nice place,” Stiles says when they get there and Derek turns off the engine. He’s grateful Stiles didn’t try to fill the silence with incoherent babblings or stupid small talks, so the guy actually knows when to shut the hell up and that’s a surprise.

Derek follows him inside the café and to a small table in the corner right by the window.

He doesn’t wanna talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about how Stiles tried to play footsie with him when Danny got the pie, he doesn’t want to talk about how Stiles has tried to hit on him since the very first night they met.

Derek doesn’t want to talk about it because he’s scared of what Stiles is making him feel, so sudden and unexpected and exciting. Even if something happened what then? The excitement would fade away, the pounding heart would get back to its normal, steady beats and what? Stiles would leave him as others have done in the past, and Derek is not sure he can take it, not again, not after he’s sacrificed so much to other’s happiness and got a broken heart in return.

Thing is, Derek likes Stiles. A lot.

The night at the club was weird, _Stiles_ was weird, but then again that’s what Stiles is, isn’t it? Weird, uncoordinated, totally uncommon and Derek’s never met anyone like him, someone who could raise his heartbeats by just being in the same room, someone whose eyes he’d feel he could drown into.

And it’s scary, that new feeling moving inside his chest, turning his guts upside down, shaking his whole world like never before.

Then Stiles starts talking over their hot coffees and Derek listens, grateful Stiles is not mentioning his earlier getaway. Stiles seems to get Derek, somehow, and that’s never happened before either. Derek’s lovers loved him their own way, not unconditionally, not trying to understand him once. Stiles is different.

Stiles doesn’t get scared by Derek’s stares or sour lines, he doesn’t seem to mind when Derek doesn’t talk too much and talks for the two of them instead. Stiles didn’t get scared by Derek’s rough behaviour and he didn’t let it push him away as well. Stiles is still there, still talking, still trying to make it better even when he doesn’t have a clue of what is wrong, and Derek can’t help but smile a bit, because Stiles is hyperactive and a bit crazy but he’s probably the best person Derek has ever met. Stiles _cares_ , cares about Derek, about how he ran away; he cares even if they don’t know each other that well – _almost at all_.

“…and Danny has Ethan now,” Stiles says and a shadow covers his beautiful eyes for a moment. “Not that I don’t like him – well, I _didn’t_ like him before tonight, now I think he’s a great guy, still-“

“You and Danny…?” Derek asks in a low voice and oh, how could he not notice before? There was something intimate in the way Stiles behaved with Danny, an affinity he saw and ignored, thinking it was just a close friendship. Now Stiles’ eyes widen and he looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like Derek is breaking him back somehow.

“What? No,” Stiles quickly says after few seconds of total silence and Derek sees him gasping. “I mean, yes. I mean, _ish_.” Stiles rubs a hand over his face and looks at Derek as if he’s desperately trying to say something but can’t find the words.

“We’re friends,” he finally says and for a moment he looks sad. “It just feels like… like I’m losing him, same way I lost Scott, or anyone that ever mattered.”

“I get it,” Derek says in a quiet voice and he has no idea who Scott is but he doesn’t want to find out. Stiles and Danny have a thing, then, and the hopes he didn’t allow himself to hope crumble down right before his eyes and really, he should’ve known better. He’s been a fool for not _wanting_ to see it, that’s all.

“Yeah, and-“

“I’d better go,” Derek cuts him off and he doesn’t care if he sounds too bitter now. He just needs to leave, and he needs to leave _now_. He thought Stiles was different – and who knows, he probably is, but not the way Derek thought he was. Stiles is pining over Danny and Derek doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want to be with someone who’s in love with someone else again. “See you around, Stiles.”

“Derek, wait-“

But before Stiles can add something else Derek has already left money for the coffees and run outside.

*

“How about a hot chocolate?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Come on, Stiles, would you tell me what’s going on already?” Danny sits next to him on the sofa and Stiles gets up hastily, heading to the front door.

*

“Stiles, this is ridiculous,” Danny tries again a couple of days later. Stiles has barely talked to him, or his father, or anyone for what matters. He’s been shutting people out and has spent the last few days in a horrible mood, refusing to say anything about it.

Danny suspects it has something to do with Derek – and since Ethan told him Derek is broodier than usual he just knows he’s right – but he has no idea of what happened between them. It was clear as day they liked each other, they seemed to get along great, and it stopped. All of a sudden Stiles became intractable and apparently the same happened to Derek. So either those two are idiots and don’t see they’re made for each other or Danny doesn’t know what this is about.

“You will talk to me, Stilinski, or I swear to God I’ll-“

“Can’t you just let me be for a while?” Stiles almost shouts then he sighs, looking terribly sorry and irremediably dejected. “I’m sorry, I won’t take it out on you,” he says in a whisper, “It’s just… I need to be alone, okay? I promise I’ll be alright.”

“Stiles, even your dad is worried about you,” Danny whispers to his ear when he hugs him tight. “Whatever it is, it’ll be alright. And I’m right here, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Stiles’ eyes are shiny with what Danny recognizes as tears as he gently pushes Danny away and leaves the house once again.

*

Stiles hates proms. He does.

If he thinks about his prom, years and years before, a cold shiver runs down his spine, freezing him from the inside, and thinking about _total disaster_ doesn’t even get close to what that dance had been for him. _End of the world_ would me more accurate.

Stiles remembers everything of that night. The date he didn’t have, the limo he didn’t rent, the tuxedo he didn’t wear; he remembers staying in a corner drinking tons of punch while everyone else was dancing on the dance floor, Scott right by his side as he always was back then. They were the losers, the guys who didn’t get the girls, and prom night was for them one of the most horrible nights in their whole lives.

So when Stiles is sent there, to Beacon Hills High School Prom, he feels like he hates the whole world. We need someone there, they said, just in case. You’re the youngest, they said, you will mingle perfectly. Stiles hates them all, the police officers at the station, and he hates his dad as well, because the Sheriff didn’t move a finger to help him out. Stiles tried to tell them _he’s not a police officer_ , of course. As if they cared.

He parks his jeep in the old familiar parking lot and prepares himself to another horrible experience at prom night.

The school is fully decorated, confetti flying all over the place and ending up on the floor like a big coloured funny carpet; the music’s playing already and few guys are dancing, holding their partners close, kissing, touching. Stiles thinks professors must not be in sight or they’d never allow that kind of behaviour. He sighs dramatically and heads to the table where the drinks are, hoping to get something good – some of the kids _must’ve_ corrected the punch, come on, they’re seventeen for God’s sake!

“You again.”

Stiles freezes on the spot when he hears that voice, but Derek doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort when as he adds, “Now I’m really starting to think you’re following me.”

“You’re such a funny sour-man, has anybody told you that?” Stiles replies immediately, his voice hissing and sour as Derek’s. He doesn’t care. Derek started this – whatever _this_ is – and he deserves to be treated the same shitty way he’s treated Stiles.

“Yeah.” Derek’s eyes gaze dangerously, but then again Stiles doesn’t give a fuck. “They didn’t live to tell afterwards.”

Stiles steps towards him, looking him right in the eyes to show that, hey!, he’s not impressed, nor scared for what matters. “Exciting, really,” he says observing the straight line of Derek’s lips and feeling the urge to punch it. Then kiss it, but only because Derek’s lips look fantastic. Stiles shake the thought out of his head and keeps on scowling at Derek instead, thinking about how messed up the guy must be, on so many different levels.

Stiles doesn’t get it, he’s not even sure of what happened that night between them – one moment they were having dinner and smiling and talking, the next Derek was running away, then Stiles ran after him and they had coffee and talked again, and Derek started to smile again just to run away for the second time that evening.

For days Stiles has been thinking about what he had said that night, rephrasing the words in his head to analyze them, looking for the smallest clue to unlock the mystery that is Derek Hale. He couldn’t find anything and after blaming himself for Derek getaway he started thinking that Derek was actually the problem, not him.

“So, do you need something or…?”

“Or.” Stiles says with a brief nod. “I’m on duty.”

He helps himself with some punch and after the first sip he almost smiles: it’s not entirely alcohol-free as teachers think.

“You, on duty?” Derek asks raising an eyebrow at him. “At the school prom?”

“There’s always someone from the police to check everything’s alright.”

“You’re not the police.”

“But I work with them.”

*

Stiles is not sure whether he hates Derek or the prom the most. Probably the prom. No, actually probably Derek. It’s just – that guy gets on his nerves and Stiles can’t stand it. He hates feeling so nervous whenever he spots him in the crowd, feeling his guts crossed every time he and Derek exchange looks.

And Derek doesn’t even _pretend_ to ignore him, that’s what drives Stiles mad.

Of course Stiles is looking at him, but why would Derek look back after what he did? Stiles doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get Derek’s behaviour, he doesn’t get Derek’s stares and doesn’t get anything of that limbo-like situation they’re in.

Maybe Derek didn’t like him at all since the very beginning, but that doesn’t make much sense. Why the smiles? Why the cosy talk in the café? Why, why, why. Stiles’ head is full of questions he doesn’t have answers to and that sucks.

In the meantime the kids are having the night of their lives – or at least some of them, Stiles is pretty sure he can spot few not having fun at all. Also Derek looks like he’s not having fun at all, Stiles notices, his face dark with exasperation and boredom, and Stiles would like to go and tell him that’s what he deserves – but he doesn’t. Who is he kidding? Derek deserves happiness and unicorns and rainbows, he deserves something to put a smile on his stupid face because every time he smiles the world is a bit brighter, and a bit better.

Stiles sighs after one hour spent looking at Derek from afar, pining, and he knows this can’t go on. So he slices through the crowd avoiding drunk kids, stupid kids, excited kids and kids that he cannot really put the blame on just because his life sucks.

“How about a drink?” Stiles asks right behind Derek’s shoulders and of course Derek knows it’s him even before hearing his voice, it just seems to work that way. “Look, I have no idea what the hell happened to make you act like this, but how about we get over it? A fresh start, if you like.”

When Derek turns to face him Stiles’ heart skip a beat – or a _million_ – as he spots the looks on his face – tired, annoyed, scared, and Stiles just wants to touch him now. Caress his face, kiss his lips, tell him that is okay to be scared sometimes, it’s not the end of the world; Stiles wants to tell him he’s right there if Derek needs, ready to get the pain from him, all the failures, all the bad things that happened to him because Derek doesn’t need to be so broken.

He keeps silent instead, ready to turn his back on Derek and ran away as far as possible because of everything he feels when he’s around him, but then Derek’s look lightens a bit as he mutters an embarrassed, “Ok,” and Stiles’ heart jumps in his chest. He smiles at Derek – his brightest smile _ever_ – then rushes off to the punch to get some for the two of them.

 _Ok_ is everything Derek said and it’s not much really, so Stiles’ heart should stop pounding because, come on, it’s not like he agreed to go on a date with Stiles. They’re just having a drink at a stupid school party, it’s seriously not that big deal. Just. A. Drink.

Stiles pretty much skips the queue – they’re just kids, Stiles is sure they won’t mind (too much) – and pours the punch in a couple of plastic cups, heading back to Derek in a rush. They can have a fresh start, and maybe Derek doesn’t hate him after all. Maybe he’s just troubled with his own personal shit, shit that Stiles would very much like to help him with. Stiles doesn’t want to leave Derek alone, and he doesn’t want to feel alone without him as well.

When he gets back and spots a small, shy smile on Derek’s face Stiles thinks he’s just melting. He smiles back – slowly, shyly, he doesn’t want to scare Derek, the guy really seems to have serious issues with people caring about him. Stiles is so focused on Derek eyes, on the way they shine, that he doesn’t see it coming. Some kids are having fun, joking and shoving each other in what they believe is a good time and they’re so close to Stiles one of them, pushed by the others, actually jostles him, and Stiles falls.

He would hit the ground if he wasn’t for Derek – Derek and his nice big arms, always ready to catch him whenever he stumbles or trips on his own feet – and _of course_ he spills the drinks on Derek nice shirt and grabs his shoulder to keep himself in a vertical position. Derek’s arms are all around his waist, hot and steady and safe, their faces are so close Stiles can distinguish all the different colours in Derek’s eyes – and he kisses him. Stiles just kisses him there and then, and screw the rest. He needs Derek, his warmth, his lips, and Derek is already pushing him away, gently, and Stiles feels like a complete idiot. He feels lost as well, and Derek looks confused but he doesn’t let him go, his arms still all around him in a comfortable catch.

“You and Danny-“

“Me and Danny are _friends_ ,” Stiles says in a low, trembling voice. “There used to be benefits, but Danny has met Ethan and I’ve met _you_.”

“So all the time you’ve been hitting on me there was nothing between-“

“Wait, what?” Stiles abruptly interrupts him, confused. “I’ve never tried to hit on you, like _never_ , I never thought you’d go for it and left things as they were. I thought you wanted us to be friends. Maybe. I even thought you hated me for a while, but then you were all pretty smiles and good conversation – well, until you lost it again and I could think of nothing but ‘ _what the fuck_ ’, and then-“

“How about the pool?” Derek asks, his grip tightening on Stiles’ body. Stiles shrugs.

“What about it?”

“You were _obviously bending a bit too much_ ,” Derek says as if it really were obvious, but Stiles doesn’t, so he just replies, “How else would you play pool?”

Derek slowly shakes his head. “You gave me your number,” he says then, and Stiles shrugs again, really, what’s his point?

“I gave you my _business card_ , to call me if you remembered anything about Josh.”

“Oh.” Derek looks lost now, and Stiles starts caressing his forearms almost automatically. “But you were calling out for me in the streets. And then, how about the movie? You sat _next to me_ and kept brushing your shoulder against mine.”

Stiles laughs and even if he’s laughing in Derek face he just can’t stop now. “I was calling for Scott, that day I saw you by your car, like my ex best friend Scott, the same Scott I haven’t kept in contact with for _years_. And the movie,” Stiles continues, laughing even harder and Derek scowls at him but who cares now? “At the movie I sat next to you to steal your popcorn,” Stiles says looking really apologetic about it, then adds, “Sorry?”

“The dinner then, at your place,” Derek recalls with a winning light in his green eyes. “You were _playing footsie_ with me.”

“What?” Stiles shouts and holds him a bit tighter. “No, I wasn’t! I would’ve never- seriously, Derek, who do you think I am? That must’ve been Danny trying to reach Ethan. Oh God, all this time you thought-“

“ _You_ made me think-“

“I didn’t make you think anything!” Stiles shouts and he would keep on laughing if Derek wasn’t kissing him now like their lives could depend on it and, well, Stiles can focus on Derek for a little while, on how his tongue is sliding in his mouth, warm and soft, or on how Derek’s biting his lower lip, torturing it with his teeth and if Stiles wasn’t a grown-up he would grow a boner right now because God, the guy is hot.

“You did it, accidentally,” Derek whispers on his lips and Stiles feels his own legs going all jelly now. He smiles, cupping Derek’s face in his hands, and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

“If I knew you were gonna go for it, I would’ve done it on purpose.”

Derek smirks and kisses him again, deep and slowly now, taking his time to taste Stiles regardless of all the other people in the school gym; nobody’s paying much attention to them anyway, so Stiles puts his arms around Derek and pulls him closer, smiling in the kiss.

“Oh, and the day at the school field,” Derek says after a while, his lips shiny from the kisses and his eyes bright in the low lights, “With the ball? Nice catch.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grins and right before kissing him again he adds, “Like this one.”

 

 


End file.
